


exposed

by falloffinthesummer



Category: Original Work
Genre: my place to be self-depreciating cause that's what i'm good at
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2019-08-16 18:28:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16500497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falloffinthesummer/pseuds/falloffinthesummer
Summary: wattpad's too good for this





	1. crocodile tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wrote this with one person in mind, ended up applying it to 4 more

crocodile 

tears, waterfalls cascading down

stony cheeks

 

_stop_  

 

spinning

dizzy, imagining the world 

orbiting you 

 

_acting_

 

exaggerated

actions, meeting skeptical eyes 

the audience left

 

_no-one_

 

watching

silence, condemn doors to lock and key

wonder why the knocking fades

 

_is_  

 

whispering

sweet, sweet lies to mere shadows easy 

when blinded by the spotlight

 

_playing_

 

foolish

tears, palms framing a sea of lies

the show moves

 

_along_

 

 

 


	2. daisychained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bad piece of writing for an equally bad writing portfolio

Unless you're a fan of noise, school reunions aren't really that fun.

 

There is something very superficial, - dare she say, careful - in the way people act when confronted with their past. As if they were afraid of ruining the ‘magic’ - daintily nibbling at stagnant friendships coated with sugar-sweet icing. Never would you find another place where mistakes can so easily be erased - the tentative taste of stale, saccharine ‘sorry’s’ lingering upon tongues diminished with tangy touches of brighter times instead. 

 

Nostalgia plagued the space - infecting every interaction taken and suffocating each word, flimsy laugh and forced smile. A breath of fresh air couldn’t be more desired - away from the myriad of memories trapped within weathered walls. It's exactly why she's positioned herself as the human version of the thorn between roses - so unnatural, yet undeniable essential in retaining her sanity. She may be shaped by city chaos, tumultuous traffic and smoggy skies, but there’s a tranquility unrivaled in following a game as simple as daisychains. 

 

Pick. Punch. Pull.

 

Daisychains had kept her company when no-one else did - supplying her with a muse, a form of entertainment that kept her thoughts aligned to a strict rhythm and pulse captured within a metronomic beat. Second nature combined with muscle memory gilded her into a long forgotten habit - a familiar rhythm hypnotising both mind and movements. 

 

It’s only when she glances down that the past and present collide into a flurry of activity. 

 

Pick. Punch. Pull.

 

All along, daisy-chains have been significant of friendship and the recognised symbol for childish naivety - innocence, puerile games, freedom and everything in between. But maybe, she ponders, there's more similarities than what first meets the eye. 

 

They extrude light, a facade that blinds us - from individuals to a group, from one to many, from 'daisies' to 'daisy chain'. So corrupt are we, so powerless we feel that we claim the identities of mere flowers, and force them into a stereotype, an inescapable circle of conformity.  
Shaking her head does nothing to dislodge the train off its tracks. It’s headstrong - barreling through with burning ideas and insight. The people in her presence simply fuel the thought - and suddenly, embracing her younger, more imaginative persona and oh-too-familiar habits seemed more appealing than anything else.

 

Pick. Punch. Pull. 

 

Daisychains mirror practises found within society - a never ending cycle of jealousy, greed, copycats, and materialism. It’s a common desire to be someone else - a crowd of clones scrabbling, fighting in pursuit of being as nameless, faceless as each other. Determination pulls us away from anything that may prevent our path of self-destruction - our roots a mere memory (much like those poor daisies, so rudely plucked from their home). Unknowingly, we bind ourselves to doom - a flimsy support chain of flowers in the same scenario, with no way out or escape. Robbed of our desire to grow and mature/develop, fear of change is paramount - fickle fingers that could risk snapping their network in half. And this how they live - their individuality slowing dying, dependent on each other for a will and a way to continue. Little do they know that one day, the chain is destined to break - worn down to the tiniest of fibers holding them together, fading glimmers of life when the petals are wilted and the stem is flimsy, brittle, delicate. That's when they realise the inevitable - that by separating themselves from their roots, they have nothing to go back to. It's not as easy to break apart as it is to join back in again. 

 

And what have they created? Not freedom or peace, no - rather a broken system where relying on each other just isn't enough of we want to sustain a healthy lifestyle. The balance is off - you give all your identity (that you've ever lived and based yourself from) away, just to whittle away as a manufactured copy of everyone else. Daisies among daisies that tried to do what was perceived to be 'right' and 'acceptable' - yet, ultimately sacrificed themselves.

 

Pick. Punch. Ouch.

 

A bloom of pain snapped her back to reality - and she flinched, dropping the continuously growing chain and freeing herself of the trance. Her gaze flicked down to examine the thumbnail indent left on her index finger. Stabbing herself certainly wasn’t the smartest thing to do - yet, she’d been so caught up in the rhythm that she hadn’t noticed the absence of daisies around her. 

 

Everyone of them was gone - their chances depleted, locked into an inescapable chain. All apart from her. 

 

No. She’d never fall victim to something as simple, as manipulative and controlling as her own subconsciousness, attempting to seal her demise in the same, selfish way. The light-hearted, beautiful aura the daisy-chain typically possessed amplified, becoming almost too sweet - too pure to simultaneously knotting and tangled her mind in a suffocating grip. 

 

She stumbled to her feet - curiousity continuing to intoxicate any thought process available. Uncovering one link was interesting - but doing so had established a chain of others. Head buzzing with a flurry of incessant questions, she stumbled away - hoping to seek comfort in the past rather than reminisce it like before.


	3. letters to a world away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> challenge: how many scrap pieces of writing can i find and post in one day

sometimes  
I wonder   
if you ever receive these

whispered words,   
piggybacking prayers upon   
(silent) shooting stars  
whisked to a world away  
colliding the spiritual, extraterrestrial, and unknown  
with the fragility, delicacy, certainty, of hope

(what an) untimely universe 

something so small and intangible  
fluttering through galaxies and constellations  
written by tears   
twinkling with the light of a thousand stars above  
just for you

i hope you get my message


	4. who knew: psychology x vocabulary = happy reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh look, it's me pretending to be smart and philosophical again

Make sure to use large, uncommon words in your writing. This encourages or foxes the reader to search them up and find the meaning and put it back in context - making them feel smart whenever they next come across it and know what it means. Do it sparingly, and you'll subconsciously increase both the readers vocabulary and ego at the same time. Thus, they'll leave positive comments at the end - not only because it was a good read, but because they benefited from it in a more materialistic way. Definitely continue to keep the main impact made through the continually growing message, theme, and characters within your story - but it's nice to make a subtle impact and keep engagement with interesting and unusual vocabulary. Make sure it all fits in though - don't make it obvious that you're trying to sound smart! Everything should flow - preserving the reader's connection to the book, interrupting their time as little as possible to search the word, before diving back in.


	5. gravity changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is literally me: half-finished scraps of a work that will never be fully completed. i hate how i'm making my writing into a metaphor for myself wow

your words float so effortlessly through the air  
like a feather  
but their meaning settles like lead within the constraints of my head


	6. this is not the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i want to cry

you took your last breath while we all held ours


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> don't hate english as much as i hate myself :)

didn't you hear? breaking the rules of the   
english language   
is just so trendy  
right now

stooping lower than to use a capital   
letter, denoting our importance from 'I' to 'i'  
blurring words in a way that glasses can't fix  
vision varying - is it 'its' or 'it's'?

as if capslock was simply tOuched upon   
an inconvenience - there's no need to shout  
and spaces? undivideduneven here and there  
just throw in a blank gap for emphasis

comma's a breath easier than a full stop's silence  
the humble eclipse revamped  
with triple comma aesthetic compliance,,,  
the dot too heavy - carefree, form a tail instead

run out of words? an emoji will do  
justice, a colored concoction of pixels  
replacing the typical black&white blues  
of a sentence, and letters that mingle

reread - again and again and   
again, it doesn't make sense why you'd  
captivate with run-on sentences (and red squiggly lines)  
when you could write something less forced, less contrived

the rules were made for a reason

but what can i say? i am a writer, living   
in a world where style is capitalized by  
lower case letters   
and apparently, this is our 

language


End file.
